CCLXX - It's déjà vu all over again.

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Best wishes for the New Year.

It’s déjà vu all over again.

And so we end another year
Whether we’ve advanced is far from clear
While most things were not as we feared,
It’s déjà vu all over again.

Chorus

Don’t you worry, it’s all the same;
History plays repetitive games.
Study the past, it’s very clear
What was past will reappear
With the same story, just different names,
Different names,
With the same story, just different names,

The Arabs had their cliché-ed springs
The Iraqis saw what democracy brings,
And Egypt on a knife edge swings,
It’s déjà vu all over again.

Chorus

Climate Change a political stone,
While storms and floods have only grown
The establishment prefers not to know
It’s déjà vu all over again.

Chorus

Royal weddings kept the media frisky,
News Limited tactics were more than risky,
And Kim Jong-il has forsaken whiskey
It’s déjà vu all over again.

Chorus

An enemy of the state was eliminated,
A computer guru was venerated
And the Japanese were irradiated
It’s déjà vu all over again.

Chorus

So what will we see in the year ahead?
Who will survive, who will be dead?
Can’t but praise the guy who said:
It’s déjà vu all over again.

Chorus

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© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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CCLXIX - Once upon some time or other

 Sunday Scribblings had a topic 'Fairytale'. 

Once upon some time or other

Once upon some time or other
There was a very hassled mother;
Her kids had not done what she had said
And so were packed off to their bed.

“We cannot sleep”, the kids did wail
And demanded she read a bedtime tale.
She briefly considered trying to sing it
But had no books, so had to wing it.

“Once upon a time”, her story went,
“Cock Robin was killed with mean intent;
He had built a sweet house, made of straw
And the poor old lion had a thorn in its paw.

He ate the tarts that were really the Queen’s
And sold the cow for only three beans
He cut off its tail with a carving knife,
Because living in a shoe was a wretched life.

A scheming wolf then knocked at the door
While Cinderella swept up the floor.
Jack fell down and broke his crown
And the rats all followed him out of town.

The witch rubbed her hands with some glee
As the King called out to his fiddlers three;
The frog, it did a wooing go,
Its fleece, it was as white as snow.

But when she got there the cupboard was bare
And told her to let down her golden hair,
But Jack and Jill were only good friends
And they lived happily ever after. The end.”

It sleep was the goal, it failed to work
The kids had gone beyond berserk
“This is not right” they yelled with a noise
And pelted their mother with their toys.

“Tough titties, you little swine” she cried
“I did my best, I really tried.
If you didn’t like it, it’s no fault of mine
I’m off to have a mug of wine.”

“Wait!  Wait!  Mother, not so fast,
We think your version quite a blast!
But you left out the Dukes ten thousand men
So, please, say it over once more again.”

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© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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CCLXVIII - Twas the day after Christmas

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 Sunday Scribblings had a topic 'Festive'.  

Twas the day after Christmas

‘Twas the day after Christmas, and not hard to guess,

The adults were exhausted and the house was a mess,

The fridge was full of enough leftover gear

To feed a small village for the best part of a year.

All of the women and a few of the males

Were up at dawn to go off to the sales.

They don't need the items on display

But don't like to think that 'one got away'.

The spiritually inclined still long to be blessed,

So flocked, en mass, to the Boxing Day test.

There the priests of Cricket will bowl and strike

To show the faithful what an eternity’s like.

We are told that humans have what it takes

To grow and learn from past mistakes

But the case for such change is far from clear

When we just go and repeat it the following year.

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© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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CCLXVII - Listen Up, Fat Man

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 One Minute Writer had a topic "Santa"
The image is a modified Norman Rockwell.

Listen up, Fat Man.

Don’t give me sock or hankies,

Forget about the books,

I have no need for power tools,

Leaf blowers are for sooks.

I have a phone and need no more

My kitchen is well kitted,

The sweaters have been well and good

But very few have fitted.

It’s not that I’m not grateful,

There is just nothing that I plead for:

I have not the slightest interest

In things I have no need for.

If I really must have a list

Of things to send my way:

How about an equal world

Where all can have a say?

Is a well managed planet

Beyond your elfish crew?

Resources should belong to all

And not just the selfish few.

And wars give me the irrits,

They are never ever right;

Kindly ditch all politicians

Who send our youth away to fight.

My last wish is a cheeky one,

And would let you retire your sleigh:

Could rid us of religion?

That would truly make my day.

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© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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CCLXVI - Pooh is high.

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.Mad Kane has a regular limerick challenge.

She provides the first line, the rest is up to us.

While I believe a limerick should be risqué,

I played this one straight.

A bear who was terribly high
Regretted his decision to fly.
“While it is rather sunny,
There’s an  absence of hunny,
And the bees are in oversupply."

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© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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CCLXV - The Joy of Playing Hard To Get

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Sunday Scribblings had a topic 'Joy'. 

The Joy of Playing Hard To Get.

Most people have the wrong idea
About joy and how to find it.
Very few know what it is
And fewer still defined it.

Some think it's on the golf course,
Others in a grandchild on the knee,
Some take to writing poems,
Others search beside the sea.

Some think it found in chemicals
Of confectionery, drink or pills;
Others look for it in adrenalin
That fuels their need for thrills.

Advertisers, of course, sell the line
That you life is dull and grey
Unless you eat their products
Or drive their car away.

But joy is a mixed up mugger,
Hidden where you can’t detect it,
But leaps out and then rewards you
When you least of all expect it.

Searching for joy is pointless,
A misguided thing to do;
Set your heart on contentment
And let joy come looking for you.

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© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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"Happiness is like a butterfly:

the more you chase it, the more it will elude you, 

but if you turn your attention to other things, 

it will come and sit softly on your shoulder."

- Thoreau

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CCLXIV - A Girl Who Was Frequently Prone.

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.Mad Kane has a regular limerick challenge.

She provides the first line, the rest is up to us.

A girl, who was frequently prone,

Was amazed how her business had grown.

“I’m flat out at work”

She said with a smirk,

“I’m helping the wild oats to be sown.”

 ◊◊◊

A girl, who was frequently prone,

Was seldom in that position alone.

“Most, of course,

Prefer intercourse,

But others are happy to be blown.”

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© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery

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CCLXIII - Le gros mort

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.Mad Kane has a regular limerick challenge.

She provides the first line, the rest is up to us.

A fellow whose last dime was spent
On a night with a woman-to-rent,
At the orgasmic crest,
Had a cardiac arrest:
“He came and, then sadly, he went.”

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© 2011 J Cosmo Newbery
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